


After.

by sutera



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, fUCK ME, hAVE ALL MY FEELINGS ABOUT IT all in this lil fic fml fmlf mlfmlf, what the fucking fuck was episode ignis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-14 17:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13013037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sutera/pseuds/sutera
Summary: Ignis would sacrifice his life to save Noctis. And he did. He just never knew what the consequences truly were until it finally happens.or,in a way, ignis really did die when he used the ring.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok but when u give me divinity and pushing the limits of humanity how can i not come up with this ok ok ok ok i cANT HELP iT i got given an opportunity and i ran with it ok fml fml lkja
> 
> ALSO ALSO ALSO OH GOD EPISODE IGNIS. i have no one to cry about it to help me guys hep help

_“I swore it.”_

_He takes his king’s hand and bows his head in further affirmation. This is his duty. This is his reason for existence. It is the sole purpose of each and every breath he takes, of each and every movement he makes._

_He pledged his life to Noctis Lucis Caelum, the one man wholly worthy of it, and so the pledge will never be something he regrets._

_A smile, in answer; a smile that knows everything within a single heartbeat and carries all the consequences and ache and sorrow of what is and what will never be._

_“Thanks,” Noctis says, and that smile cracks just the faintest bit, but he manages to finish: “for everything, Iggy.”_

_Ignis doesn’t answer. They both know he doesn’t need to. Not when they know the unspoken things lingering in the air even after everything they’ve been through, waiting and burning, yet to be said._

_Yet._

_Ignis smiles back, warm and heartfelt, and the silence speaks for him._

* * *

He’d sworn it and so, within the promise, comes the desperation and _need_.

The need to do whatever it takes to keep his oath and the desperation caused by the fact that he _can’t_ do everything and anything for it. He is human, after all, cursed terribly by his limitations and everything he already is and was made to be.

He excelled at his classes. He excelled at strategy and dual wielding and strategy. He excelled at everything he was ever taught.

It was never enough.

In his mind are the images of his king being brought to Lucis like a lamb to the slaughter. In his mind, he witnesses Noctis’ death, over and over because it is _necessary_ , because it is required to save the entire world from the darkness and the devastation that comes at dusk. Noctis is the Chosen King and Ignis wouldn’t have been his retainer, his friend, if not for being carefully selected as both his friend and bodyguard.

But then, maybe Ignis would have become something to Noctis anyway despite whatever fate chose for them. Maybe Ignis would have been someone like Prompto, bumping into him at school, or even assigned to train him, like Gladio.

Ignis doesn’t know. This is his reality. And so his reality is his humanity.

 _I need to save him_.

 _I need to_.

I need to—

* * *

He needs power. He _demands_ it.

The Ring of the Lucii may condemn him. It may burn the flesh from his bone and rip his life away from him. It doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t.

As long as Noctis is safe. That’s all that matters. _That’s all that matters_.

The world doesn’t. By the gods, it _doesn’t_.

When faced with _Noctis’_ impending death, not his own, he doesn’t care anymore. He sees Noctis’ duty flash before his eyes and he sees what fate has chosen Noctis to do. He sees the life taken from him and he hates it. He despises it.

 _He won’t let it happen_.

The Ring burns on his finger. Everything hurts and yet, at the same time, he’s invigorated and full of _power_. It’s intoxicating and heady and he can feel his heart sing in response to the flood of _divinity_ overwhelming him, stripping away at the weakness of his skin and pushing the very _limits_ of what he can accomplish, of what he can _do_.

He thinks, maybe, that the magic Noctis lent him and the magic King Regis lent his Glaive is like a piece of divinity. That maybe Noctis and all his forefathers before him are something like gods.

It seems fitting, for a moment, and then Ignis thinks of that smile.

That smile. That laugh. That scowl. That snarl. That smile, again, ten years in the future, sad and accepting of the sacrifice to come—

_Walk tall—_

“ _Fuck that_ ,” Ignis hisses through his teeth, and the vehemence is quickly swept away in favour of calm and clarity. Losing his head now would do no good. Everything hurts. Divinity itself courses through his veins and it burns and eviscerates and _empowers_ him all at once—!

 _For Noct_.

 _This is for Noct_.

He must keep his head. He must defeat Ardyn. This is what he must do. Noctis must live. He _must_. He deserves a life free of worry. He deserves to live after this, after everything that has happened, and Ignis will see that through. Nothing will stop him. Not even his very _humanity_ —

His body lights up like a beacon and he _pushes_ , _pulls_ at the Ring and everything it can offer, and he wills at the Astrals, wills at the kings and queens of Lucis past _take my life, not Noct’s, please not Noct’s, take mine take mine take mine_

Every trickle, every spindle of power ropes around and around his being, his _soul_ , and perhaps this is what the Chosen King should have experienced, this painful experience of burning away and experiencing power like a _god_ , and is thankful that Noctis won’t have to go through this, won’t _ever_ have to go through this—

He pushes forward, a slice of cobalt through the stale air, keen blades rippling with flames and ice and lightning, and Ardyn pushes _back_ with eyes of pure coal with _darkness_ dripping from every pore. Ignis’ limbs tremble, burdened by might and pain, but he can’t fail. He _won’t_ fail. He steadies his stance, steps and vanishes and appears again, over and over, slashing at everything Ardyn is because he _must_ die, he _has_ to die so that Noct can live—!!!

His flesh slowly becomes ash. Cracks form and he _is_ divinity for but a few moments, incandescent and radiant as one can ever imagine a god to be for his _human_ flesh cannot hold him and his mind sharpens and _ascends_ all at once because he is everywhere and _nowhere_ , a life just waiting to expand and sharply coalesce to deliver the final blow on a weakening foe that _does not deserve to spread his vile existence any longer_ —

Gone. Ardyn is gone.

Like dust, his essence flutters and flickers out with a passing wind, and Ignis feels his power leaving him, his energy, his _life_ escaping his being as the cracks in his skin close, as humanity takes over once more. He is no longer a fire, burning brightly and _hurting_ to exist, but instead a shell of who he used to be, falling now, feeling the ground pressing against his back and his eyes perceiving the blurred images of his friends running towards him.

“ _IGGY!_ ”

A trio of voices. They’re all safe.

Noct is safe.

Ignis feels a tug on his finger. The Ring of the Lucii is taken and Noct wears it without further hesitation. Pride swells in Ignis and he can only watch as Noct goes to face his fate.

His king won’t die. Something in Ignis knows that.

Yet, even as Noctis disappears into the Crystal, a heavy feeling won’t leave him.

A frightening feeling.

* * *

_I wasn’t supposed to live_ _._

Ignis knows this. It’s a mantra that keeps repeating his head even as his friends lift him from the debris, from the glow of the Crystal that has drawn Noct in, and back towards a world where the sun won't rise to greet him—a world where Noct won't rise to greet him—for a very long time.

 _I wasn’t supposed to live_ _._

Ignis wondered about it, of course.  He learned that Noctis was meant to use the powers of the Ring, the power of the kings before him, and sacrifice himself to the crystal to rid the world of the Starscourge. That is what was meant to happen.

 _I wasn’t supposed to live_ _._

But then Ignis happened.

Ardyn was part of the problem, the darkness, the Starscourge. Ignis never understood what the entire situation was but he knew Ardyn was part of it. Perhaps not the source, but a main player all the same.

 _I wasn’t supposed to live_ _._

Noctis begged the crystal to save Ignis but Ignis wasn’t meant to be saved.

 _I wasn’t supposed to live_ _._

* * *

Ten years is a long time. In ten years, Ignis noticed what’s wrong.

He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it. The Ring hadn’t taken anything from him. Not when he killed Ardyn. Not after Noctis had disappeared into the crystal. He thinks it’s because when he stays with Prompto and Gladio, he realises that they’ve grown so much more from who they used to be.

They find out Prompto was born out of a Nifleheim experiment. It takes both Ignis and Gladio as well as a few weeks to shake the fear out of him and to reassure him that Noctis will accept him no matter what. Ignis knows that if Noct was there, Prompto would’ve come to terms with everything a little faster.

Gladio is more tired and weary and it takes a separation between the three of them six years into the dark decade to truly see that. He’s the one constantly fighting to save everyone, especially when they all seem exactly like the one person he couldn’t save: his sister.

There is one morning where Ignis wakes and he knows Ardyn is back. He doesn’t know how but he does and he looks to the direction of the Citadel. It feels as if his fight with Ardyn changed nothing, that Noctis will die in the end anyway, and Ignis will have failed. He doesn’t understand Ardyn’s significance in it all, he doesn’t understand why Noctis _has_ to give his life, but he _fought_ for his king, he fought for that _not_ to happen and, by the gods, he will do so again if he needs to.

For a while, Ignis thinks it’s his own determination giving him strength, he thinks it’s his own thoughts and hopes to see his king and the world saved in the future that helps him wake in the morning and push his muscles to their limits and beyond.

That’s what he thinks.

But for all his strategizing and clarity, he remembers suddenly, one night, that there’s one major decision he never planned for and made purely out of impulsivity that depended on his own emotions. A decision that he doesn’t regret but now thinks may lead to an unravelling he can’t predict.

Using the Ring of the Lucii.

Two months before Noctis comes back to them, he looks at himself in a mirror, and realizes he hasn’t aged at all.

And, when the dawn finally breaks, he thinks he grows a little weaker.

* * *

The amount of relief that hits Ignis when Noctis stumbles out of the throne room almost knocks him over.

As it is, Ignis staggers and only just manages to regain his bearings in time to catch Noctis when _he_ staggers himself. At the same time, Gladio and Prompto seem to have the same idea to catch their king and, as a result, they end up as a pile of limbs and breathy, near-hysterical laughter.

Ignis doesn’t know who started it or who even fell over first. He doesn’t think it matters, not when everyone’s smiling this much, and so can’t help but join in and finally, _finally_ relax.

He meets Noctis’ eyes over the others’ and they exchange a warm gaze before Noctis averts his gaze in favour of tickling Prompto off him, which in turn upends Gladio and makes him tackle Prompto who lands on Ignis who falls forward on Noctis. It’s a mess, but it’s a mess Ignis is glad to have.

When he catches a sudden _something_ lurking in Noctis’ gaze, he wishes this could last forever.

* * *

Noctis still hasn’t spoken about what happened while he was in the crystal. When first asked, he only smiled nervously, shrugged, and had this sadness about him that Ignis doesn’t recognize for a moment. It wasn’t like Noctis at all to withhold such information, though Ignis has faith that Noctis is doing this for a reason.

But it’s over and the kingdom has only to rebuild now. There are far more important things to worry about now.

And so Ignis pushes everything to the back of his mind. He lets his worries about the machinations of the darkness and Ardyn and the Ring fall to the back of his mind, he lets his observations about himself fade to a dull murmur, and he focuses on the effort to return the world to it’s normal state. Everyone busies themselves with their own individual jobs and piles of work and, before Ignis knows it, it’s been a few months since all of them have been in the same room together.

 _I wasn’t supposed to live_.

The mantra doesn’t go away. It lingers like an echo. And the frightening feeling still stays, lingering deep in his belly.

Ignis doesn’t think they’ll both ever leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> liTEN I WAS OFF FFXV for a good year and episode ignis drew me back with its multiple ending stuff so i just--and i just. i had to. im dyin. with everyone esle even tho ive hardly been a part of this fandom iGNIS' DETERMINATION STRUCK ME OK I FUCKING LIVE ND BREATHE FOR THAT KIND OF LOYALTY fuck
> 
> just. just help omg fml
> 
> alSO i was totally gonna do this as a monster oneshot but i just. ive been busy and i feel like motivation for this will be lacking since i wrote like 4000 words of the supposed oneshot before running out of steam rip. lkjaklf idk i'll see where this goes??? i have a good plot in mind i just need to do it omg lkjaskfj.
> 
> (this is rlly just ignis whumpage just sue me alrdy ok)
> 
> and ok ok so this drabble-esque thing writing style thing im doing just completely gets ditched in the next chapter ok i havE'T written fafncition in a while (or, at least, published ones rip my stupid fluctuating writing stlyes) so i just. pls bear with me rip. can u tell how nervous i am rn publishing in a fandom ive never been in im sweating pigs ok


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fool's thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh lordy i hate myself for changing writing styles in the middle of this lkmlkmasf i waS SO CONVINCED I WAS GONNA do a drabble-like monster oneshot but then it. turned into a multichap thing and i. im expiring lkjsafkj
> 
> hAVE THIS THO...

Almost half a year after the light came back, Gladio pulls him aside with a deep frown and taut jaw.

“Noct’s been giving his personal bodyguard the slip lately,” he says quietly to Ignis, concern pulling his lips back in a scowl, “I don’t know whether I should blame the bodyguard for being incompetent or His Royal Highness for putting his own safety in jeopardy like that.”

Ignis sighs and slips the papers he’s holding into his desk drawer. He stands and grabs his coat. “I suppose my proposals can wait for an evening or two. I imagine you’ve attempted to talk to him already?”

“Attempted being the key word there,” Gladio grunts, crossing his arms. He leans against the doorframe, looking far wearier than Ignis has ever seen him. “He’s been giving me the slip too whenever I try to confront him. Not really sure what he’s up to but it’s unusual behaviour for Noct.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ignis says promptly, absentmindedly pushing his glasses up. He narrows his gaze at Gladio. “And while that happens, see that you get some rest. _Proper_ rest.”

Gladio waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah, heard ya the first twenty times and I’ll answer you the same way: only if you do, Iggy.”

Ignis thinks of the long nights he’s gone without sleep time and again, planning and worrying about each and every construct of the city and the outside, and making sure that everything he’s put into action is upheld and lasts and is _useful_ , and decides not to say anything to Gladio. He figures they have the same mind about this, so caught up in their own jurisdictions and their willing workload, that they refuse to surrender their minds to the horrors of itself. He thinks only Prompto manages to get the minimum amount of sleep for all of them but only because he needs it. He doubts sitting in an office all day is comparable to running around in the wild for the same amount of time, energy-wise.

“Perhaps,” Ignis says with a small smile. “But onto the matter of Noct: is he with his bodyguard now? If I remember his schedule correctly, he should…” Ignis lifts his wrist to glance at his watch, “…be reviewing Tenebrae’s proposal. Is that correct?”

Gladio shakes his head, giving a short laugh, “damn, Iggy, you never change. You’re right, he’s in his study. Push him around a little for me, won’t you? ‘M gonna go see if I can wrangle a few rookies to take care of our Longwythe problem.”

He claps Ignis on the shoulder as he leaves and Ignis is left staring at the door as it shuts behind Gladio.

“… What are you up to, Noct?” Ignis murmurs to himself. As if in foreboding, his body tingles, as if a spark is lit, and his eyes hurt at the light filtering in through the window. He looks over to his desk. A cup of Ebony sits there, untouched in favour of completing the paperwork, and he crosses over to it to take a sip.

It tastes like nothing in his mouth.

Another sigh before he finally leaves the room. He best find Noct before he gives his bodyguard the slip again. Perhaps he should have asked Gladio how often Noct did that and when. No matter. He’d get the answers out of the King soon enough.

Yet when he arrives at the room, he finds Noct’s current bodyguard pacing in front of the door, clearly stressing.

“Argus? Argus Cain?” Ignis calls after a second of remembering the man’s name.

“Sir!” The guard looks spooked under the helmet. “Sorry, Sir, the King—His Highness, he-he’s just—!”

“No need to explain,” Ignis says reassuringly, “I’ve been informed of the situation. I will take over from here.”

Cain seems relieved. “Right. Yes. Okay.”

Ignis moves inside the study, past Cain who stands awkwardly to the side, and approaches the desk. “Where did you last see the King?”

“He was just here going over some papers and I was standing just inside and he just—he said there was a noise outside and asked me to investigate!” The bodyguard says all in one, rushed breath, eyes wide. Ignis briefly wonders how old he is but dismisses the thought from his mind. Find Noct. This should be… easy. _Should_ be. After all, Noct has not done this since he was young.

“Did you hear the noise?” Either Noct was lying to get Cain out of the way or he was hearing things.

Cain shakes his head. “No, Sir.”

The former, then.

“Alright,” Ignis starts, turning to face Cain, “you are dismissed.”

Cain nods and leaves. Ignis turns back to the desk.

As expected, there are papers everywhere. Occasionally, Ignis came in when Noctis slept to sort through them, even the nights when Noctis fell asleep at the desk. He’d always drag the man back to bed before coming back and organizing everything. Normally, he’d recognize what Noctis was working on at the time since everything _Ignis_ worked on went through to the King for verification but all of these now…?

It’s expected, perhaps, for Ignis to not be aware of everything that passes through Noctis’ desk, since it’s been quite a while Ignis has called around to clean up, but as his eyes scan the various reports and books, he feels apprehension rising in him. Cosmogony sits there in it’s royal blue splendour and Ignis spots several scraps of paper throughout the text as makeshift bookmarks. The papers surrounding the book are notes and Ignis can make out the words ‘Starscourge’ and ‘Astrals’, ‘dawn’, ‘Oracle’, ‘Revelation’... arrows, too, connecting paragraphs and Ignis frowns because that should have been dealt with. That should be all put under the table, so to speak, and they shouldn’t have to think about it any longer.

At least, Noctis should not have to. What would have prompted him…?

Another paper catches his eye. In red, large letters, ARDYN LUCIS CAELUM is written with rough underlines.

“Guess I was sloppy, huh, Iggy?”

Ignis tenses at Noctis’ sudden voice behind him but he doesn’t turn around. Instead, he gathers the papers together in a neat pile and places the Cosmogony book atop it.

“Quite,” he responds simply, “though I’m uncertain as to what aspect of this you’re referring to.”

He hears Noct move into the room and the door shuts softly behind him.

“Probably all of ‘em,” Noct replies, a smile heard through his voice, and Ignis finally looks at him. His King is resplendent in his many garments, yet the sheen of fresh material does not overly reflect the wearer. Ignis is fully aware of how tired all of them have gotten and wonders when the ease of their younger years will come back to them. Perhaps never, he concludes with an impassive thought, and quickly tunes his ears back to the subject at hand. “One: I leave everything all over my desk all the time. Two: I let word of my little rebellions come back to you and Gladio, and three: all that stuff there is out in the open for anyone to read.” Noct laughs and Ignis thinks it sounds more bitter than usual. “But, hey, you spotted more than that, huh?”

“Your appearance _was_ one of the sloppy things,” Ignis says with the beginnings of a grin. It fades. He leans against the edge of Noct’s desk as the King takes a seat. “Your latter reason piques my interest far more than the others, though. Am I correct in assuming that it’s related to why you’ve been giving your bodyguard the slip?”

“Right as always, Iggy,” Noct says fondly; his gaze drops to the neatly arranged papers and he opens Cosmogony.

Ignis waits for an explanation. He doesn’t get anything. He sighs for the umpteenth time this hour and finally persists. “Just because I am right, Noct, does not mean I have all the answers.”

It’s loud and clear. Noct, at the corner of Ignis’ eye, clenches his fists on the desk. “I-I’m trying to figure something out.”

Ignis stands a little straighter. “What is it?”

“It’s… about what happened.” Noct sucks in a sharp breath. “I know I should be laying it all to rest and I should be happy with everything but…” His face scrunches up in pain and Ignis’ heart flutters at the sight and at the whisper that follows. “I’m scared.”

Ignis stays silent. He’s brought back, suddenly, to a night where a young Noctis had lain in bed and called for company. He remembers tending to him immediately, wondering _what’s wrong what’s wrong_ , and waiting for an answer. He remembers Noctis whispering something he only understood in the morning: _I’m scared_.

And that admission scares Ignis himself.

 _Do not worry,_ Ignis wants to say, _I’ll take care of everything_ , because he would find a way to just so Noctis won’t be afraid of anything anymore.

“Of what?” Ignis asks, already mentally preparing himself for it and already clearing his schedule for what may or may not be ahead. Certain designs and plans can be put to the side for this, of course, and he’ll have to—

“For you, Iggy.”

 _Don’t be_ , are the words immediately jumping to Ignis’ tongue because Noctis _shouldn’t_ be. For a wild moment, Ignis thinks he misinterpreted the words and Noctis meant _of him_ but that sounds far too ridiculous to even consider. He opens his mouth, ready to reassure, because the conclusions he draws are one in the same as his worries about Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto; worries that involve how much rest they are getting and how much stress is put upon all their shoulders. But then—

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Noct says, sounding slightly exasperated, as if he’s already guessed and _knows_ all what Ignis has just concluded. “Iggy… you wore the Ring of the Lucii. We never had the chance to talk about it. We never _did_ , actually,”—he gives a humourless laugh—“because of how fast everything’s been and I _hate_ that I can only get to this now—!”

“You need not worry, Noct,” Ignis says, quickly and gently. Alarm bells start to ring in his mind because _of course_ this is on Noctis’ mind and he should not have expected anything less from his friend even if the kingdom took precedence. “Everything is fine—”

“Everything is _not_ fine,” Noctis interrupts sharply and Ignis falls silent, taken aback by the vehemence. Noctis doesn’t seem to notice and instead rests his elbows on the desk, his forehead against his palms. “It’s why I required privacy. I couldn’t let you know. I couldn’t let anyone know just yet. But then… you’re here anyway. I guess I was too caught up in trying to figure it all out…”

Ignis feels anxiety rising. This is something that has gone far from what he had expected. He thought the King had caught the case of rebellion like in his youth and decided to abscond from royal duties for a breather but instead… instead this is far worse.

“Where… have you been going?” Ignis asks through suddenly clenched teeth. He feels like he cannot breathe because he _knows_ the answer already, lingering on the edge of his mind—

“The Crystal,” Noctis admits quietly, still not looking at him. “I’ve been going to the Crystal.”

Ignis feels a myriad of emotions rising so quickly, so violently, that he almost lets them break through the barrier of his inhibitions and tact. He manages to take a deep breath instead to calm himself and think the admission through carefully.

“What,” Ignis starts, “exactly do you believe going to the Crystal will achieve, Noct?”

“It’ll give me answers, alright?!” Noctis snaps, strangely defensive, and Ignis takes a moment to analyse his King’s features. The stubborn line of his jaw, the hard clench of gritted teeth, and eyes still avoiding him even as his head raises slightly from its earthward direction. “I _should have died_ , Iggy! But then you—you did something and they didn’t need my sacrifice anymore! And I’m afraid,”—Noctis swallows hard and final looks Ignis in the eyes; the fear found in them knocks the wind out of Ignis’ lungs—“I’m afraid that they’ll take something from you! That they already have!”

“It’s not important, Noct. The kingdom—” Ignis starts patiently, because even if they’re both not aware of whatever sacrifice he has to face, it was still worth it. _Noct’s_ life will always be worth it.

“All sacrifice for the King, so the King must sacrifice himself for all, isn’t that how it went?!” Noctis nearly yells his words and he stands abruptly, the chair falling back to the ground. Hands slam on the table and Ignis sees a younger Noct, here, full of spirit and stubbornness and he feels a wave of nostalgia so strong he remains speechless. “I wasn’t supposed to live, Iggy!”

 _I wasn’t supposed to live_.

Ignis knows that train of thought all too well. There he was, dwelling so much on whatever he sacrificed, that he had not given a thought to what Noct must be thinking. The entire prophecy _hinged_ on Noctis’ sacrifice.

“Do not investigate further, Noct,” Ignis says quietly because he’s scared that, if Noct digs too deep, perhaps whatever force allowed them both to miraculously live will take that all away again. “ _Please_. Let it go.”

And, as he fears, Noct shakes his head slowly. “No. Not when you’re the one at risk, Iggy. I can’t… I _can’t_. Don’t ask me to.”

Ignis breathes out slowly, helplessly, because he knows he’d do the exact same thing as Noct relentlessly. He already _did_.

He decides, easily, that he cannot let Noctis do this.

And so, quietly, Ignis asks, “what happened inside the Crystal, Noct?”

* * *

Ignis doesn’t sleep that night.

He paces. Pauses. Starts to head towards the kitchens before deciding that cooking will result in wasted food. Starts to head outside, under the cover of the night, before retreating because the night gives him a feeling he does not yet wish to acknowledge.

He ends up in the Citadel’s garden, taking in how well the flora has grown, and smiles at the thought of flowers like these growing once again all over the world. Ten years without light, after all, was a tragedy not just to the people.

“Rattled are we, my dear retainer?”

The voice is sudden and unsettlingly familiar that Ignis whirls immediately, knives slipping into his steady grip. It takes a moment for his mind to process it, for the information itself is shocking enough to _deny_ upon seeing, but he’s shaking his head the moment he absorbs it.

“Ardyn…” he acknowledges quietly.

The man, looking entirely fine—insultingly _healthy_ —gives a low, mocking bow with the wide smile to suit. Ignis is ready to attack him, to attempt to destroy him a _third_ time, but a feeling stops him. This isn’t possible. This _truly_ isn’t possible. How can Ardyn be here? If anything, this must be some sort of apparition or hallucination he is having but even that seems like a far-fetched theory. Yet…

“Still no acknowledgement of my royal heritage?” Ardyn tuts and strides closer; each step makes Ignis tenser. “I thought you would change your mind given our dear Noct is a descendant of mine. One would think your loyalties would transfer to _me_ as well.”

“A fool’s thought,” Ignis hisses, his old anger at the man rising once more. For a moment, he’s back in the heat of that battle, desperation driving him with divinity eviscerating his each breath, and Ardyn is there: laughing and laughing and laughing and _not dying_. Ignis pulls himself back to the present firmly. He cannot lose his head here. This is crucial to the kingdom and Noct’s own continued success. “What are you?” He demands, a near snarl, and takes a threatening step forward. “Why are you here?”

“Have you not guessed?” Ardyn seems to be enjoying this far too much. It makes Ignis’ blood boil enough to threaten his already-terse composure. “I told you I would come to take revenge. A man’s dying words are something to be taken seriously, are they not?”

Ignis goes cold. His grip on his daggers tighten. He shouldn’t think about it, he’s not _going_ to—

He dashes forward in the next second, keen metal slicing up in a deadly arc straight for Ardyn, and he expects to hit solid flesh, he expects some sign of resistance or even Ardyn jumping _away_ suddenly but Ardyn doesn’t move, decides to stand there and _grin_ instead and Ignis has a horrible, _horrible_ feeling—

He pitches forward when his hit doesn’t seem to land, and his momentum makes him stagger briefly. He quickly regains his footing and spins, trying to organize his thoughts, because what happened couldn’t have just transpired. His blade had gone _through_ Adryn and, when Ignis’s blow had failed to meet and he was pulled forward, he… completely went through the man. As if he really was just an apparition or hallucination.

“What is this?” He breathes out, shaky and uncertain suddenly, because he _knows_ Ardyn can be hurt. He did it a decade ago, why can he not now?

“That was rude,” Ardyn responds instead, and turns to face him elegantly. The smile is gone and the darker tone makes Ignis’ hair stand on end. “Perhaps you haven’t been _listening_ to me or maybe you’ve even forgotten: I am _immortal_. I cannot die. Did you think that when you killed me, I would fade away entirely? Did you think that when your dear King landed the finishing blow himself?” Ardyn laughs, low and bitter, and he spreads his arms as if welcoming Ignis. “My spirit is _eternal_ , my soul everlasting! To think otherwise truly is a fool’s thought, would you not agree?”

“That’s…!” Ignis starts, but he falls silent. He can’t say anything to counter that. He doesn’t even truly _know_ what Ardyn is, after all. He doesn’t fully understand how he became immortal. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t _know_ —

“Now, now, don’t look so mortified. Your King can live! The Chosen has defied his own Prophecy!” Ardyn’s smiling again but there’s something dripping from his eyes and lips, something black and liquid. His eyes reflect the darkness. “But that cost… oh, the _cost_. You can guess already, can’t you? Or do you need more clues?”

Ignis doesn’t want to believe it. He _can’t_ believe it. “That… that can’t _be_ …” he croaks out, lost for a moment, and the disbelief briefly dampens his anger at the entire situation.

“What did you learn, hm?” Ardyn’s grin is wide. “You somehow learned of the Prophecy otherwise you wouldn’t have fought so valiantly for your King. Yet… not all the details were disclosed, were they?”

“No, I-I knew. I know.” Ignis doesn’t want to listen to this anymore, but he _has_ to. He’s been far too complacent, far too comfortable with letting everything run it’s course. He should have learned more. He _should have_. Yet at the same time, he can’t stand Ardyn’s voice, the gloat hiding underneath all his words. “Just shut _up_. Stop playing with me and just—!”

“And what?” Ardyn taunts, stepping closer; it’s close enough that Ignis can make out the blackened sclera of his eyes, the disgusting drip of taint from seemingly every pore. “You say you knew. Does that mean you willingly ignored what would happen? That the _Chosen King_ ”—the words curl Ardyn’s lips into a hateful snarl—“would fail _because of you_?”

Ignis sucks in a sharp breath. He doesn’t know what to say. He _can’t_ say anything because he’s damned if he does, damned if he _doesn’t_. Ardyn’s words resonate with him in a way that Ignis doesn’t wish to currently acknowledge in case his emotions spiral any more out of control. But then, what use was this conversation itself? It still doesn’t explain anything. No. Ignis needs to focus. He can’t be distracted.

“You’re derailing,” Ignis murmurs, and takes a deep breath. His knives lower. If he cannot harm Ardyn, then surely Ardyn is in a state where he cannot harm Ignis. “You’re trying to stray away from what matters. It won’t work.”

“Oh?” A brow raises at his words. “Are you that deep in denial?” Ignis opens his mouth to retort but he involuntarily quietens when Ardyn lifts a finger to his lips to hush him.

Angered at the notion and his own compliance, words spring to his lips, mouth curling into a snarl but movement at the corner of his eye catches his attention and he jerks his head to identify the newcomer.

“Iggy…?”

It’s Prompto.

Ignis looks back at Ardyn. The man’s shaking with silent laughter and his features are back to normal, revealing the amusement curling in his eyes. Quickly, Ignis hides his daggers once more though cannot help clenching his fists. He still hears Ardyn’s movements even as he looks back at Prompto who… clearly doesn’t see their old enemy.

Instead, the blonde’s frowning at Ignis and Ignis _knows_ it must have looked bad to him. To have walked in on Ignis talking to himself with his weapons out… Ignis grits his teeth before forcing himself to relax. He must calm himself. Later, he can go through everything in his mind but right now? Everything must appear fine. He can’t let the others know about this. At least, not yet. Not until Ignis has learned more about this disturbing development.

The development that is currently still standing near him and humming irritatingly loudly on purpose.

“You’re up,” Ignis states calmly to Prompto; he takes care to note the blonde’s exhaustion, no doubt this is another sleepless night for him, and shifts his body to show that Prompto has his full attention. “And you’re here. How was the Lestallum run?”

“Good, good,” Prompto says, clearly unenthusiastic and clearly still thinking about the scene he caught Ignis in. He’s frowning and squinting at Ignis; for the first time in a _very_ long time, Ignis feels nervous around him. Prompto looks like he’s on the verge of asking the obvious but he surprises Ignis by continuing the previous train of conversation. “Had a bit of trouble just outside of town but we managed to, um, with the cargo and… you know. The—well, we transported it and all and, uh,“— _here it comes_ , Ignis thinks just as Prompto decides to point at him and prove Ignis’ previous point right—"did you just have your weapons out, Iggy? I heard you talking but there’s… kind of… no-one here so…”

Prompto laughs awkwardly. Ignis wants to laugh, too, to dismiss it all but he feels far too rattled to act so nonchalant. It’s unsettling as well to have Ardyn still _there_ because Ignis isn’t taking his eyes off the man, not for a second, even if he really may be just a hallucination.

As if cognizant of this recent thought, Ardyn gives a low chuckle and a wave. “Oh, how the seeds of doubt so easily grow,” he comments, and Ignis suddenly wishes to literally tear out the part of his brain that is cruel or—god forbid—insane enough to imagine him.

Imagine… ah. How frustrating. He still isn’t sure whether or not Ardyn is real and a result of having used the Ring so long ago. Strange though, for it to happen _now_ of all times because—

Ignis pauses that train of thought. _Concentrate_ , he tells himself, because Prompto is starting to look seriously concerned and Ignis has stayed quiet for longer than necessary. “It’s nothing,” Ignis starts to say, but then figures he should perhaps provide further explanation just in case Prompto decides to pursue with further suspicion. “I thought I saw something, but it was my imagination. I’m afraid the lack of sleep may be getting to me.”

Better. After all, that may even be the truth. As if to try to disprove that, Ardyn gives a sly remark: “how you wish that would be so.”

Thankfully, Prompto seems to buy it. “Alright, Iggy,” he says slowly, though a tired smile pops on his lips briefly a second later. “You don’t need me to drag you to bed then, do ya? Or maybe I’ll get Gladio to chuck you over his shoulder and carry you to bed like last time—!” A snicker follows Prompto’s words and Ignis lets his face relax into a warm smile.

“Surely that would _lift_ my mood up so much so that I won’t be able to sleep,” Ignis comments dryly. “All the same, I recommend you get some sleep yourself. You look as if you need it, Prompto.”

The blonde nods, a yawn already punctuating the action as if to emphasis the fact. “Yeeaaah, you’re right. I’m beat. You know I had to drag a Gaiatoad off the road ‘cause it was blocking the truck’s path? And by myself, too! And it was _raining_. That was a _nightmare_ , Iggy!”

“A nightmare?” Ardyn asks, interest apparently piqued; Ignis’ hackles raise when Ardyn looks in Prompto’s direction and takes a step forward. “Oh, poor Prompto. He’s not had the pleasure of a _real_ nightmare. Not yet. The days he was in my care wasn’t enough to bring him down to such a level, unfortunately.”

“You stay away,” Ignis hisses at him, eyes narrowing at the man; he’s so tightly wound once more that he’s about to attack again but Prompto suddenly moves in between them. For a moment, Ignis thinks Prompto sees Ardyn but the hope is dashed when Prompto frowns at Ignis, leaning in close.

“Iggy, hey, you okay?” Prompto asks, concerned, “I mean, I was joking before about Gladio but if I should actually go get him then—”

“No!” Ignis says, unintentionally loudly, and lets out a sharp breath when Prompto draws back, confused at the vehemence. “No,” Ignis repeats, calmer now, and rests a hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “I’m fine. My apologies. Please, go get some rest, Prompto. You need it.”

“Yeah,” Prompto says, looking unconvinced. Ardyn whistles, amused, behind him. Prompto continues, “you too, Iggy, alright? And lemme know if you need anything. I’m gonna be here for a week this time. Next job won’t be for a while so... call, yeah?”

“Yes, of course,” Ignis says quickly, eager to be alone again if only to concentrate. “Have a good night, Prompto.”

Prompto smiles and gives a little wave as he heads off. “Night, Iggy.”

Ignis waits until he’s sure Prompto is gone before snapping his gaze to Ardyn. “You’re an illusion,” he concludes with venom he can hardly conceal, “you’ll fade away on your own.” He starts moving away back to his quarters and pretends not to hear Ardyn’s words from behind.

“A fool’s thought~”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment if you enjoyed! thanks for reading!!


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